


Consequences

by deansdirtybb



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Mpreg, Sam Takes Care Of Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansdirtybb/pseuds/deansdirtybb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: Wincest (established relationship), violence comparable to what is seen on the show, discussion of abortion, anal sex, mpreg (This story contains mpreg but does NOT use ABO dynamics. I ask you to just accept the concept that in the world where this story takes place men can get pregnant and carry a baby without any real explanation of how/why.)</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing these characters (if only these pretty, pretty boys were actually mine). I make no money here; my only profit is the joy and ruined panties of my readers.</p><p> </p><p>Summary:  When Sam finds and cures his demon brother, Dean turns out to be pregnant. Unsure of the demonic effects of the Mark of Cain, Sam’s determined to find a way to permanently save his brother and the baby. </p><p> </p><p>AN #1: Written for the reverse bang challenge to accompany the beautiful art “Guilty All the Same” by apocalipskiss Please go leave her all the love for her gorgeous work!</p><p>AN#2: Thank you to my unbelievable, indispensable betas, the gorgeous katstark and adorable sleepypercy. Without the support of you ladies I would never have gotten through this, and without your talent this story would be a mess. Love you both!</p><p>AN#3: I never saw myself writing an mpreg story, but I was really won over by the beauty of apocalipskiss’s art and enjoyed the challenge of stretching myself to write outside my comfort zone. I hope the end result works for you.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Wincest (established relationship), violence comparable to what is seen on the show, discussion of abortion, anal sex, mpreg (This story contains mpreg but does NOT use ABO dynamics. I ask you to just accept the concept that in the world where this story takes place men can get pregnant and carry a baby without any real explanation of how/why.)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing these characters (if only these pretty, pretty boys were actually mine). I make no money here; my only profit is the joy and ruined panties of my readers.
> 
>  
> 
> Summary: When Sam finds and cures his demon brother, Dean turns out to be pregnant. Unsure of the demonic effects of the Mark of Cain, Sam’s determined to find a way to permanently save his brother and the baby. 
> 
>  
> 
> AN #1: Written for the reverse bang challenge to accompany the beautiful art “Guilty All the Same” by apocalipskiss Please go leave her all the love for her gorgeous work!
> 
> AN#2: Thank you to my unbelievable, indispensable betas, the gorgeous katstark and adorable sleepypercy. Without the support of you ladies I would never have gotten through this, and without your talent this story would be a mess. Love you both!
> 
> AN#3: I never saw myself writing an mpreg story, but I was really won over by the beauty of apocalipskiss’s art and enjoyed the challenge of stretching myself to write outside my comfort zone. I hope the end result works for you.

** Consequences Part 1 **

  
  
Dean remembers.  He remembers every second, can’t forget no matter how hard he tries, and that’s not even the worst of it.  It wasn’t like being possessed – having to sit back and watch as some evil thing used his body to commit wicked acts.  No, he’d been the evil thing, he’d made all the choices that led to pain for everyone around him.  He hadn’t even cared.  He left Sam behind without a thought.  He told Cole to kill Sam – the little brother that he’d spent his life protecting, who had always been the center of his universe, who he’d sold his soul to bring back – and he’d meant it.  That same brother had never given up on Dean, even as Dean spewed the most hateful, hurtful venom at him, Sam had administered the cure that made him human again…mostly.  His fingers traced over the mark that still scarred his forearm.  And now he couldn’t even drown all his guilt and regret in whiskey.  He stroked a hand over his abdomen.    


 

Dean Winchester, knocked up and not even positive who the father is.

 

He wasn’t sure he was pregnant yet, in fact he’d argued with Sam when Sam had brought it up.  Dean wanted to believe he was tired from weeks and weeks of not caring for his body, that the waves of nausea were related to his recovery from a steady diet of booze and grease or possibly Cain’s mark still scarring his arm and doing god knows what to the rest of him.  Dean as a demon hadn’t cared about the timing of any cycles or birth control any more than he’d cared about whose bed he was hopping in and out of; it was Sam who’d done the math, counted out weeks and brought the home test kit to Dean, saying he guessed Dean would be about six weeks along.  Dean had angrily flung it across the room, not ready to entertain the notion of the enormity of trouble his demon self could have caused for his now human self.

 

The kit remained in the corner where it landed.  However, Dean refusing to test himself didn’t deter Sam from trying to make his older brother take better care of his body and the fetus that may or may not have been taking up residence in Dean’s more than reluctant womb.  The liquor disappeared, and a whole variety of healthier food appeared in the cupboards and fridge.  Sam made meals regularly and insisted they sit and eat them together; always serving up a second helping to his older brother’s raised eyebrows.  Sometime between 10 and 11 every night, Sam would start to yawn and stretch, hinting around about how tired he was and asking Dean to come to bed with him; Dean would argue that he wasn’t tired, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, his own yawns would pour out and he’d be snoring long before his little brother.  As a result, Dean was getting more sleep than he may have ever had in his life.

 

Sam tried to put off any hunt Dean tracked down, saying it was too far, or was more likely not a supernatural killer but a human problem, and sometimes he’d pass them off to other hunters nearby because it was a simple issue that any hunter could handle.  Dean got frustrated with the lack of hunting more than any of the other changes Sam manipulated him into, and eventually he set up all the research and leg work on a hunt before he presented it to Sam.  After setting all the records in front of his little brother, Dean finished by insisting it was only half a day’s drive from them and they were the most qualified hunters for the job.

 

“Kids, Sammy.  This son of a bitch is taking kids.  I won’t sit on my ass and let that happen for another minute.  You come with me or I’ll go on my own.”

 

Sam sighed, fingers rubbing circles into his tense temples.  “Yeah, okay.”  He looked up into Dean’s eyes.  “You’re right, we gotta take this one.  Just…” Sam took a deep breath, “Just promise to be careful, Dean.  No taking unnecessary risks with your…” Sam’s gaze drifted to Dean’s stomach, “safety.  Alright?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes but nodded.  “Grab your duffle; if we get on the road now we can be there by dusk.”   


  
*       *       *       *       *   


The hunt had not been simple.  It was not a witch as Dean had suspected, it was changelings, and when three of them had teamed up to corner Sam, Dean threw himself between his little brother and the danger.  He’d gone crazy, taking each of them out and then flying after the mother so quickly Sam hadn’t been able to stop him.  Sam watched in horror as he saw the same look in his brother’s eyes as the day he’d killed Abaddon, hacking into her lifeless corpse over and over.  Saw the same cold demeanor that allowed Dean to abandon his humanity settle over him, causing Sam to panic.  

 

Dean’s ears buzzed, Sam’s voice called to him from the distance, but he couldn’t make out the words.  He turned and saw Sam’s contorted face, some kind of…emotion…clouding his features, and Dean thought he should probably care what his brother was feeling, should at least be able to recognize the expression on the face of the one person that he had always cared about.  But a red-hot burn flashed over the mark on his arm and he felt it spreading everywhere.  Then felt nothing.  He smiled at Sam as all the guilt and pain ceased to exist.

 

Sam shook his head, stuttering out, “No…n-no.  This-it can’t…this isn’t happening…Not again.  Dean!”  He watched as Dean raised his head, and before his brother looked at him a chill ran through Sam’s blood at what he was sure he’d see.  Dean smiled and Sam cringed as he took in the black eyes and cold twist of lips, and then his brother was gone.  

 

Pushing the wreckage of the cabinet off his body, Sam struggled to his feet.  He limped in the direction his brother had run, but there was no sign of Dean.  “Dammit!”  This couldn’t be happening, not again, not after everything he’d gone through to cure Dean.

 

Before Sam could make it up the stairs from the basement, he heard the rumble of Baby’s engine and he burst through the front door just in time to see her taillights disappear into the night.  “No!” He shoved his hands through his hair pulling it tight at the temples.

 

*       *       *       *       *

It took Sam hours to walk back to town where he could find a car to boost, and then another four hours to drive back to the bunker.  He wasn’t sure what he expected to find there; it was incredibly unlikely that the demon version of his brother would feel some tug on his heart to go home.  Sam was just so lost.  He had no other ideas and figured maybe the resources at the bunker would help him to regroup and figure out how to find Dean.

 

Sam flicked on the police scanner and the news as he booted up his laptop.  It was times like this, his brother in danger and Sam left alone to figure it out, that he missed Bobby the most.  Even if Sam was smart enough and determined enough to track down Dean alone, a reassuring word from the gruff old hunter would do so much for Sam’s spirit.  He sighed as he dialed Cas’s number.  The angel quickly agreed to keep feelers out for any sign of Dean, and Sam sat down to scour the internet.

 

Four hours later, Sam rubbed his bleary eyes.  He was no closer to a lead on Dean, and he was slowly resigning himself to the fact that it was probably too soon and he was going to be forced to sit back and wait.  Recalling the first search for his demonized brother, Sam knew he was in for a marathon, not a sprint, and to get through it he would need sleep.  Though he doubted a restful slumber would actually happen, Sam pushed up from his chair and headed towards his room.  

 

At the door to Dean’s room, Sam stopped.  His hand rested on the knob as he weighed the comfort of being near reminders of his brother with the pain of being surrounded by Dean’s scent without Dean’s flesh.  He pushed the solid wooden door open, inhaling deeply despite the twinge in his chest.  Sam smiled at the neatly made bed and the stack of photos on the desk.  He stepped into the room, running his hand over the flannel hung on the back of Dean’s chair, and sat on the edge of the bed.  

 

His mind replayed moments he’d shared with Dean in this room, this bed.  The last to replay was the morning they’d fought when Sam came home with the pregnancy test.  His brother’s automatic reaction to jump past his fear right to anger had had him ripping the box from Sam’s grasp and flinging it across the room.  Sam cringed at the image and when he opened his eyes to look in that corner, he found it empty.  Sam’s head tilted and he pushed off the bed for a closer look, but the box was definitely missing.  He checked the other corners just in case his memory was off, but found the box in the trash, torn open and empty.

 

Sam’s eyes widened, he dug further into the bin looking for the stick, but found nothing.  His gaze swept the room frantically and then he saw it.  Sam slowly crossed the room, not sure how he’d missed it earlier.  He picked it up from the nightstand and collapsed onto the memory foam mattress of Dean’s bed again.  His empty hand swiped down his face as the one grasping the pregnancy test fell to hang between his knees.  A tiny “+” visible just below his thumb.

  
*       *       *       *       *   


A serpentine smile appeared on Dean’s face as he wiped a bloody hand through the sweat on his brow, leaving a crimson streak.  He pulled open the door to the Impala and slid into the driver’s seat.  His last kill hadn’t just given him the rush that he needed to keep his eyes black and stop the nauseating burn the mark spread through his body.  Now he had a solid lead.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

Sam sifted through a stack of papers; clippings that detailed weather anomalies and crop failures amounting to signs of demon activity, each closely followed by a bloody unsolved murder.  He looked up to the map stretched across the wall and the pins he’d stuck into each location.  They made an unholy path across the country and Sam could guess at who his demon-brother was tracking.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

“You tell me where that son of a bitch is hiding,” Dean paused, onyx eyes catching the dim light as he pushed the knife snug against the weaker demon’s throat, “or I skin you alive.”

 

“I already told you, Winchester,” he sneered, “I haven’t seen him in a week.”

 

“Yeah, you did say that.” Another press of the knife and blood trickled down the blade.  “But demons lie.  So where is he?”

 

The demon held his hands up carefully in surrender.  “Alright, alright.  Look, I can’t tell you where he is right now.  Last I heard, boss was headed toward Louisiana.  Best I can do.”

 

Dean pulled the knife away from the other demon’s throat and smiled.  There was no warning when he lunged forward plunging the blade deep into the demon’s stomach.  “Not good enough,” Dean said as he kicked the body out his way.  But it was a start.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

Sam pulled his “borrowed” car up to the hotel.  This had been the most recent town with a demon kill, and though he was sure Dean had already moved on, he hoped to find some indication of where he was headed.  A quick flash of a badge at the front desk got him a room number and the cheap lock was an easy pick.

 

As soon as he got in the room, it was obvious Dean was already gone.  His brother must have left in a hurry, though, he’d missed several items when packing up, and the room itself was a bigger mess than the militarily-raised Winchester boys ever left anyplace.  It stank of sex and the sheets of one bed were tangled and half-hanging off the side.  Sam sighed as he shoved take-out containers away from the center of the table to look at the scribbled markings on napkins where Dean had obviously been trying to work out some mystery.  He glanced around the room again, smiled when he saw a flannel shirt still draped on the back of a chair, but when he took in the mess on the table next to the TV, his shoulders sagged.  An open whiskey bottle and several plastic cups with an amber film.

 

“Dammit, Dean.”  Sam sat heavily on the still-made bed.  He’d been prepared for the junk food, even the sex.  And though he knew the demon version of his brother wouldn’t be concerned with the baby’s safety, the undeniable evidence of the danger and harm Dean was inflicting on it was like a punch to the gut.  He leaned forward, dragging the flannel from the back of the chair, pushing his nose deep into it, and trying to ignore the tinge of sulfur and focus on the familiar scent of his brother.  He had to get to Dean, soon.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

“I know you have all the info on where that limey bastard stashes his top secret shit, Carter.” The sentence rolled over Dean’s lips in a low dangerous hiss.  The demon tied to the table flinched behind the filthy blindfold.  Dean slid the blade over the bared and already shredded skin of his chest, stopping to bury the tip in the hollow below his breastbone.  “Spill it, or I spill your filthy guts.” 

 

The demon grunted against the press of the knife.  “I tell you and Crowley will do worse than that.”

 

Dean smiled, though his victim couldn’t see it.  He could play this game – hell, he was dying to play _this_ game.  He pulled on leather gloves and grabbed the jug of holy water.  “Alright, I’m flexible,” a dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he tipped the jug over minced flesh.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

All Dean’s scribbles and every lead Sam had found so far indicated Dean was heading east, so Sam had gathered up all Dean’s notes.  He was already out the door when he turned and went back for the dirty flannel shirt, which now sat in a pile on the passenger seat.  His brain shuffled through all the information, flashing on images of Dean’s black eyes, the battered remains of demon vessels, symbols and drawings from ancient books.  Words tumbled around, different languages, different scripts, Dean’s own hand-writing.  Dean’s hands, on him…on someone else, wrapped around the steering wheel of the Impala…around the handle of his pearl-handled gun.  Around the first blade.

 

The tires on Sam’s crappy rental squealed as he slammed on the brakes and yanked it to the side of the road.  He reached into the back, grabbing his bag and ripping out all his notes, looking for the napkins from Dean’s hotel room.  His mouth fell open then clapped shut in a grin. “Gotcha.”  He huffed at himself for having missed the obvious for so long.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

Knowing the target of Dean’s search gave Sam an advantage, and he knew who to call for help.  Crowley didn’t want Dean on the loose in his demon form any more than Sam, though the King’s reasons were very different from the little brother’s.  Crowley had planted several demons in Dean’s path, instructing them to resist the torture just long enough to make it believable when they cracked and fed Dean the information he wanted.  

 

Dean was smart enough to question why it was suddenly getting easier to get the low-down on Crowley, but his compulsion to get the First Blade was desperate enough that he ignored any warning signs and arrogantly chose to believe he was just getting better at the hunt.  It meant when he pulled up at the five star hotel that he’d been told housed the King of Hell, he was sure he would find Crowley, even as he ignored the niggling sensation in the back of his mind that he was about to walk into trouble.

 

Inside the presidential suite on the top floor, Sam paced back and forth across the bedroom behind the devil’s trap painted on the ceiling.  Cas’s eyes tracked his movement, though after the first time Sam snapped at him, the angel hadn’t spoken about Sam’s restless activity.  Crowley sat in a high-backed chair with a tumbler of scotch, watching them both and his comments about the “anxious moose,” hadn’t stopped yet.  Sam loathed working with the demon who’d once stolen his brother away from him, who was the reason Dean bore the mark of Cain, but he would do anything, _anything_ , to save his brother and the baby that grew inside him.

 

When Dean burst through the door, things moved quickly.  Ignoring his brother and not even registering the angel standing in the corner, Dean lunged for Crowley, who snapped his fingers and disappeared.  Dean found himself bound by the devil’s trap; his eyes flashed black and an inhuman growl ripped from his chest.  He thrashed against the invisible barrier, throwing his body against it over and over as Sam stared on in horror.

 

Sam surged forward, into the trap with his brother, capturing his wrists and pinning him to the wall.  “Stop!” He shouted as Dean still struggled against him.  “Stop it, Dean.  It’s over!  It’s over.”  

 

Dean bared his teeth in a sneer.  “Get off me, Sam.  I’m not your brother, and I will hurt you.”

 

“You _are_ my brother.  And you won’t get a chance to.  I’m not going to let you hurt me, or yourself.  Not any of us.”  Sam looked down to Dean’s stomach pointedly.

 

Dean laughed darkly.  “I don’t care about that thing.  I’m sure it’s already dead.  Or worse.”   


[ ](http://apocalipskiss.livejournal.com/51175.html)

  
  
Sam’s head dropped, hair brushing Dean’s cheek as he pulled in a shaky breath.  “You don’t mean that.”  He drew back up to look Dean in the face.  “You wouldn’t want that.  And I’m putting a stop to this.”  Lighting fast, Sam pulled the first syringe from his pocket and sunk it into Dean’s neck.   


 

Dean’s fist connected with Sam’s jaw in a bright burst of pain, and was followed quickly by a knee to his gut.  Cas stepped in, restraining Dean once more.

 

“I can’t let you hurt your brother, Dean.  You will regret it once we’ve cured you again.”

 

Dean laughed, but it was an icy sound that held no joy.  “Didn’t work last time, not gonna stick this time either.”

 

Sam spit out a mouthful of blood onto the floor.  “I know this–” he held up another syringe of blood, “–is only a temporary fix.  Until we get that fucking mark off your arm, you are in danger.” Sam stopped to take a slow deep breath, looking at Cas briefly before he turned his swirling hazel eyes back on Dean.  “But, if we can get you thinking straight, feeling _human_ again…at least the baby will be safe.”

 

Cas’s blue eyes widened.  Sam knew Dean’s pregnancy would be a surprise to the angel, and he doubted Dean had planned on sharing the news this soon, but Sam had little choice.  Another innocent life on the line would only get Cas to fight even harder to save Dean, and after months without a single lead on how to remove the mark, Sam could use an angel on his side.

 

Sam cupped a large hand over the side of Dean’s face.  “Then we find the _real_ cure.”

 

*       *       *       *       *

[ ** Part 2 ** ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/24660.html)

 

  


	2. Chapter 2

** Consequences Part 2 **

  
  
Dean shut the heavy outer door to the bunker and made his way to the kitchen.  He dropped the grocery bags on the counter, shrugged out of his jacket and flung it over the back of a chair.  His hand automatically fell to curve over the now-visible bulge of a four-month baby-bump.  Being human again, or mostly human, hadn’t made any of this easier for Dean.  His guilt was enough to keep him from reaching for whiskey or anything else that might hurt the creature curled inside his womb, and that brought Sam some peace of mind.  Sammy’s reassurance was the only comfort Dean took in all of this.     


 

His brother was also just about the only reason Dean hadn’t run the Impala off a cliff, if not to end his own misery than because he feared what this baby might be.  During his time as a demon, he hadn’t care who, or sometimes _what_ he slept with.  Women, men, and the occasional fellow black-eyed companion had all found their way into Dean’s bed.  

 

Dean shook his head of those thoughts, he tried not to let his mind wander too far down that road.  Tried to believe in Sammy’s ability to cure the mark, hoping that as long as he stayed human long enough, then his baby might not be born a tiny wriggling bundle of pure evil.  He sighed and wandered down the hall toward the study to see if Sam had been able to make any progress while he’d been out.

 

Sam’s voice filtered out to him, getting clearer as he got closer.  It sounded like his little brother was on the phone.  The bits and pieces that made it to Dean’s ears made it clear Sam was talking to Cas, and the focus of the conversation was his research to cure Dean of the mark of Cain, not surprising since that search was the focus of 90% of Sam’s waking time.

 

“No, I’m sure Cas.”  There was a pause as Sam let Cas talk and then picked up his side of the conversation.  “I’ve confirmed it in three different sources now.” Sam sighed, and Dean could imagine his brother pushing his hand through his hair.  “We’ve gotta find this cure – or Dean’s baby could be–”

 

Sam cut himself off when he looked up to find his brother standing in the doorway.  “Dean…I didn’t-wh-when did you get in?”

 

“Dean’s baby could be what?”

 

Sam’s eyes darted from Dean’s face to the floor and then across the room.  “Nothing.  It’s fine, Dean.”

 

“Dean’s baby could be what, Sam?” Dean repeated, hand reflexively coming up to cover his stomach.

 

Sam sighed heavily before saying into the phone, “Cas, I’ll call you back.  Yeah, keep looking.”  Sam flicked his phone off and faced his brother, brow creased, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out how to tell Dean what his research had uncovered.

 

“Just spill it, Sam.”

 

“It’s the mark, Dean…until we find a way to remove it or a real cure for it, as long as you carry it you’re still p-part…” Sam took a deep breath and looked down as he said the word, “demon.”  He swallowed and looked back up to his brother as he continued.  “If you give birth before you’re fully human again…the baby might not be fully human either.”

 

“What do you mean?  Like, it’ll get a piece of the mark?”  Sam shook his head gently.  “Then what Sam?”

 

Sam’s face took on that pained look Dean had seen him aim at a hundred witnesses on hunts when he had to deliver the worst news.  “If you’re still…marked, the baby will be born evil.”

 

Dean clutched his abdomen tighter, raising one eyebrow as he asked, “How evil?”  Sam looked away. “How. Evil?”

 

“Dean, if you’re still a demon when you give birth, this baby could be the antichrist.”

 

Dean’s mouth opened and closed several times, though no words found their way out.  Suddenly the room seemed too close and hot and what happened to all the air?  

 

He felt Sam’s arms holding him, helping into a chair and handing him a paper bag.   Dean swatted at the paper bag but stayed sitting in the chair, clutching the arms until his knuckles lacked any color.

 

“How close are you to finding the cure?”

 

Sam shrugged, but upon receiving a look from Dean that was equal parts pleading and “cut-the-bullshit” he said, “I think I’m getting closer, but I don’t have it yet.  Cas is searching Heaven, questioning angels…”

 

Dean’s jaw tightened, his face settling into a stoic lack of expression.  “I’ll call the clinic in the morning.”

 

“Wait-Clinic?  What clinic?  What are you talking about?”

 

Dean looked straight into Sam’s eyes, “I can’t father the antichrist.  We don’t have the cure for this thing,” he motioned to the red mark on his forearm. “Only leaves one solution that makes any sense.”

 

Sam shook his head. “No! Dean, no-an abortion?!  No.  I’m going to find this cure.”

 

“I don’t have time, it’s not up to me to risk this.”

 

“That decision isn’t just yours.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow.  “The hell it’s not.  It’s my body this thing has hijacked.”

 

Sam sighed and pulled a chair up to face his brother’s and sat down.  “Dean, I did the math, alright.  After your last sonogram, I counted back.  And that night…when we got you back…cured you.”  Sam smiled as a light blush colored his cheeks remembering Dean spread on the sheets below him, their legs tangled together, arms wrapped around each other.   “That could my baby in there.  _Our_ baby.”

 

Dean remembered that night, how they’d both been so relieved and elated that he was human again.  The look on Sam’s face when the black fell away from Dean’s eyes.   Dean had barely been able to wait for Castiel to leave before he’d taken Sam in his arms, kissing him until their mouths were puffy-red and sore.

 

The idea of killing Sam’s baby was much harder to swallow than the idea of aborting the child of some faceless person from the road…even though it didn’t matter who knocked him up, this baby was still dangerous.  Unless Sam found the cure.  “You really think you can find the cure?”  Sam took Dean’s hands in his own, kissing the knuckles, and nodded.  “Ok, one month, Sammy.  I’ll give you one month.”

 

Sam grinned, beamed so wide his dimples popped and then leaned forward to kiss Dean.  “I will find it, I promise.  I’m going to save you.  And our baby.”

 

Sam pressed another slow kiss to Dean’s lips and Dean tilted his head, slotting their mouths together more completely.  Sam felt Dean’s tongue push tentatively at the seam of his mouth and Sam parted his lips granting entrance.  Though he knew his brother was seeking comfort in the way most familiar to him, Sam would not be the one to deny Dean that after all the stress and pain he had faced over the last year.  He sucked gently on Dean’s tongue as he pulled his brother to his feet, swallowing the moan that leaked from Dean as their bodies pressed together around the bulge of Dean’s stomach.

 

Dean’s hands pushed through Sam’s hair as the kiss became more urgent and Sam’s hands smoothed down Dean’s back, one pressed into the small of his back while the other continued down the curve of his ass, bringing his thigh up.  Dean clung to Sam as he wrapped his leg around his brother, but even with Sam helping to hold his balance, he couldn’t maintain the position for long.  He whined deep in his throat.

 

“Bed, now.”  Sam grunted his assent and lowered Dean’s leg allowing him to stand and begin moving them toward his bedroom.  Since neither would relinquish the kissing, there were several bumps into walls and one near-tripping, but they managed to make it to Dean’s room unharmed.  

 

Dean’s fingers slipped under the hem of Sam’s shirt, teasing around the waist of his jeans.  Sam began working his flannel over-shirt down his arms, swearing against Dean’s mouth when it became tangled around his elbows.  He broke the kiss long enough to free himself from his flannel and pull his t-shirt off over his head.

 

Tentative hands slid over his sculpted stomach and when Sam looked to his brother’s face, the freckled cheeks were stained pink and one of Dean’s hands moved to his own stomach self-consciously.  Sam shook his head gently, “Uh-uh.” He stretched his large hand over the swell of Dean’s abdomen.  “You’re beautiful, Dean.”  Dean opened his mouth to protest and Sam silenced him with one long finger over his ruddied full lips.  “Carrying our baby.  _That_ is beautiful.”

 

Sam locked eyes with his brother, holding his gaze and let all his emotion for Dean shine through as he smoothed his fingers gently under the hem of Dean’s shirt.  Slowly, he skimmed his fingers up Dean’s sides bringing the shirt with him.  Dean’s breath hitched as the roundness of his belly was bared Sam smiled, dropping a reassuring kiss to Dean’s mouth and then leaned back to tug Dean’s shirt off.  Dean blushed again and his arms stiffened though the muscles twitched restlessly as he fought the urge to cover himself up.

 

Big hands cupped Dean’s face as Sam pulled him into a kiss, working his lips and tongue until Dean was kissing him back as hungrily.  Sam pulled away from Dean’s mouth to trail kisses down his neck, stopping when he reached Dean’s collarbone to suck a crimson mark into the pale freckled skin.  Dean moaned and his hands fisted in Sam’s hair, letting go as Sam continued his downward path.  His teeth lightly pinched each nipple but didn’t linger there as he made his way toward his true target.  Sam knelt in front of Dean and looked up into vivid green eyes as he reverently spread large hands over the swell of his brother’s stomach.  He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the roundest part, and Dean smiled and stroked a hand gently through Sam’s hair.  Sam stroked Dean’s belly and peppered it with kisses until he felt his brother completely relax into his touch and he knew Dean’s self-consciousness had dissolved.

 

Sam reached into the nightstand for the bottle of lube and dropped it on the bed behind them.  After untying Dean’s boots, Sam pulled them off one at a time and then reached for his belt buckle.  He undid the jeans and pulled them and Dean’s underwear down while Dean held Sam’s shoulder for balance as he stepped out of each leg.  Dean made a face when Sam left him in only his socks and Sam laughed gently as he peeled those off too.

 

Turning, Dean slid onto the bed and scooted himself back into the pillows.  Sam toed out of his shoes and stripped out of his own pants and boxers, climbing naked onto the bed between Deans spread thighs.  Cock in his hand, Dean began slowly stroking himself, his hungry gaze watched Sam pour lube onto his fingers and warm it.  Sam placed a hand by Dean’s shoulder, getting up on all fours over his brother; he felt Dean’s hand brush his stomach as he continued to jack himself.  Bringing his lips to Dean’s, Sam kissed him as one lubed finger teased around Dean’s pucker.  Dean moaned a wordless permission for Sam to continue, and he pushed the finger in slowly.  He gave Dean a moment to relax and then worked the digit in and out until Dean was loosened enough for a second.  Sam stroked and stretched, intermittently teasing over Dean’s prostate and then adding a third finger.

 

“ ‘m ready, Sammy.”  Sam nodded, withdrawing his fingers and sitting back on his heels as he slicked up his cock.  His brother open and ready for him, and he took a moment to appreciate the sight, the way his brother’s belly gently swelled above his flushed dick and puffy, ready hole, before leaning forward to press the head of his cock to Dean’s entrance.   Sam looked into Dean’s eyes, filled with much more than the lust of this moment, as he pushed in with one long, slow stroke until he was fully seated in his brother’s hot channel.

 

Wrapping his hand around the back of Dean’s neck, Sam leaned down, resting their foreheads together.  Dean’s leg wrapped around Sam’s narrow hip, heel digging into his brother’s ass to bring him forward, pulling him even deeper.  As he absorbed the pleasure of having Sam inside him Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted.     


[ ](http://apocalipskiss.livejournal.com/51175.html)

  
  
Neither could fight the urge to move forever and slowly Sam began to grind his hips, barely withdrawing from Dean’s hole before pressing in deep again.  A slight adjustment in angle pressed his cock into Dean’s prostate and had his brother arching off the bed and begging Sam for more, though Sam doubted his brother knew what he wanted more of.  Sam kissed Dean then rested his weight on his hands as he fucked in and out of Dean’s tight heat in longer strokes.   


 

When Sam felt his climax building, he lowered himself back down, trapping Dean’s leaking cock between the swell of his stomach the sculpted contours of his own.  His hips worked them both towards orgasm and Sam pressed his mouth to Dean’s for one more kiss.  Dean came first, blunt fingernails digging into Sam’s back as he called out his brother’s name.  The rhythmic spasms of his inner muscles milked Sam’s orgasm from him and he thrust erratically into Dean as he cried out.

 

After taking just a few moments to catch his breath, Sam withdrew from Dean and went to the bathroom returning with a warm wet towel to clean them both.  He collapsed next to his brother, resting his head in the crook of Dean’s neck and his hand on Dean’s stomach.  The last thing Sam said as they drifted off to sleep was, “I promise.”

 

*       *       *       *       *

  
[](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/24964.html)   
**  
Part 3   
**   


****

 


	3. Consequences (Part 3)

** Consequences Part 3 **

  
  
For the next two weeks, Sam hardly left the study.  Dean hardly left his room.  But not even the marathon research sessions stopped Sam from making sure Dean continued to take care of himself.  In fact, as Dean grew more and more despondent about the possible evil growing inside him, Sam took more and more of a role in making sure his brother was getting everything he needed.  He set alarms on his phone for breakfast, lunch and dinner and one for each evening when he would ask Dean to go for a walk with him under the guise that Sam’s long legs needed a stretch.  Afterwards he’d rub the aching back his brother would never complain about and put Dean in bed, curling around him for a quick nap before returning to the study.   


 

The week Dean’s pregnancy hit the five month mark, exactly 29 days and 14 hours after Sam’s promise to Dean, he found the answer.  He cursed as he shoved the dusty ancient book away from him.  He’d known a cure for something like the mark of Cain wouldn’t be easy, but he could never have guessed just how awful it would be.  Sam pushed up from his chair and leaned over the table, his weight on his arms and head hanging.  He had to find a way to present this cure to his brother that Dean could accept.  Closing his eyes, Sam prayed for Castiel.

  
*       *       *       *       *   


 

A gentle knock on the door woke Dean from his nap.  He knew it was his brother and he grumbled for Sam to come in.  

 

“I scheduled my appointment for tomorrow,” Dean said without looking up.

 

“Cancel it.”  Dean raised his head to look at Sam who offered a tentative smile.

 

“You found the cure?” Dean asked skeptically.  Sam nodded.  “Well, what is it?  I gotta drink lamb’s blood under the full harvest moon?  Run naked through burning sulfur? What?”

 

Sam laughed weakly.  “No, none of that.”  He sighed and met his brother’s expectant gaze.  “Just…just hear me out.  All the way to the end before you decide anything.  Okay?”

 

“I’m not gonna like this at all am I?”  Dean pushed himself up and scooted his now front-heavy body to the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor.  He took a deep breath.  “Alright, fine.  I’ll hear you out.  Doesn’t mean I’ll agree to whatever it is.”

 

“We know the mark can be passed on to someone worthy – “

 

“I’m not giving this curse to someone else, Sammy.”

 

“I know; I’m not talking about just passing the buck here, Dean.  Just let me…” Dean nodded, waving his hand in a “go ahead” gesture.  “Well, it turns out the sole judge of the worthiness of the recipient is the current bearer of the mark.  Anyway, that’s the first step.  And for the cure, we have to find someone ‘pure of heart’ that you deem worthy of wearing it.”

 

“Okay.  Then what?”

 

“Well, it takes time for the mark to turn the person carrying it, to-to take hold of their soul.”  Dean nodded, obviously impatient for Sam to get to the point.  “Okay, this is…this is the part you’re not gonna like.  We can stop the mark if we…we have to, um, we sever the arm bearing the mark before it has the time to take the soul.”

 

“No.”

 

“Dean –“

 

“No, Sammy.”  Dean stood from the bed.  “You’re talking about cutting off some innocent person’s arm.  I’m not gonna trick some good person into taking this thing and then chop off their arm.”

 

“Who said anything about tricking someone?”

 

“Sam –“

 

“No, Dean.  I know you’ve never believed you’re worth – that you’re willing to just sacrifice yourself.  But…dammit, Dean.  You’re worth it to me.”  Sam stepped forward, carefully stretching his hand over the swell of Dean’s belly.  “And so is this baby.  Please?”

 

Dean looked down his body and wrapped his hand around Sam’s wrist.  When he spoke his voice sounded weary, “I don’t know Sammy.  I just don’t see how it’s gonna work.”  He looked up to his brother’s pleading hazel eyes.  “I mean, what person is going to willingly sign up to get their arm hacked off?”

 

Sam’s other hand came up to cup Dean’s jaw, thumb stroking over the stubble.  “We’ll find them.  Cancel that appointment? Please, for me?”

 

Dean had never in his life had the strength to resist his little brother.  “Alright.”  Sam grinned and leaned forward to kiss Dean’s full lips.  “But, Sammy, if this doesn’t work that’s it.  I will destroy this thing before it can hurt anyone else.  And myself if that’s the only way.”

 

“It will work.  I know it will.  And I already have Cas on the search for a recipient.”

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

Eighty-three days.  That’s how long it took Castiel to find a volunteer.  He searched churches and small communities, trying to find the truly devout and not just the ostentatious evangelicals who were either all show or whose beliefs had strayed too far from the true plan his Father had intended to be considered pure of heart.  

 

He found her on a small farm in northern Ohio.  Her name was Emily and he appeared to her as she was churning up the soil near her house to plant a garden.  Castiel explained everything as best he could, and she absorbed the shock of it all – the existence of supernatural creatures, the true story of Cain and Abel, Dean Winchester’s current situation and the possible birth of the antichrist – rather well.  Her eyes widened owlishly and she asked to go inside and sit down, inviting him to join.  She filled a glass of water for herself and offered one to the angel, which he took even though he had no need for it.  

 

Emily sat at the old kitchen table and waved at the chair across from her, and Castiel sat down with her.  He knew she likely needed some time to sit with the information he’d already presented, but time was the one thing he and the Winchesters didn’t have to spare, so he gently pressed on, telling her why he was here to see her.  Finally he laid out the last piece, asking her if she would voluntarily take on the mark only to lose it and her arm to save Dean, his baby, and possibly the world.  He’d known it was a good lead when she asked for the night to pray on the answer.  He returned the next morning to find her sitting on the front porch steps with a packed suitcase.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

“Oh, hell no!”  Dean exclaimed, shaking his head.  “Absolutely not.”

 

“Dean.”  Sam’s tone betrayed his exhaustion and his frustration with his brother as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“No way, Sam.  She’s a girl.”

 

“She volunteered.  Cas explained everything and she’s wi-“

 

“I don’t care.  It’s bad enough I gotta cut somebody’s arm off, not gonna hack into some chick.”

 

“You said if Cas found a willing volunteer you’d do this.”

 

“Nobody said anything about any girl.”

 

“It doesn’t matter-“

 

“The hell it doesn’t!”  Dean shouted.

 

Sam took a deep breath to keep his tone as neutral as possible.  “Dean, Cas found us a volunteer, it’s taken months.  We don’t have time…you can’t just…”

 

“Yes I ca-“

 

“Excuse me.” The quiet female voice that broke into the argument between the two brothers was strong enough to grab both men’s attention.  “I believe this is my decision.  Now, I’m not jumping up and down about losing an arm.”  She looked intently between Sam and Dean.  “I’m not crazy.  But I can’t stand by and let an innocent baby and a good man die…nor can I do nothing while the world burns with the birth of what very well could be the antichrist.”  Emily paused to take a deep breath.  “I’ve prayed and I’ve thought and felt…everything.  I’m asking you to let me help.  I want to help.”

 

“I don’t think you’ve got any idea what you’re asking for, lady.  This ain’t something that’s gonna heal.”

 

“I know what a sacrifice this is, I know how difficult it will make my life, but how can I be selfish about a small amount of hardship for myself when this will rid the world of such a dangerous and evil force?”  She held her right arm out with a small, unsure smile.  “Besides, I’m left-handed anyway.”

 

Dean felt a large hand on his shoulder and turned to find himself face to face with Sam’s pleading, wet hazel eyes, his candy-pink lips mouthing the single word, “Please.”  

 

Dean leaned in, resting his forehead against Sam’s.  In the end it didn’t matter how innocent the woman was, or that she would spend the rest of her life disfigured.  Dean would burn the whole world down if it meant sparing Sammy tears.  He wrapped a calloused hand around the back of Sam’s neck, thumb tickled by shaggy hair as it rubbed over soft skin.  “Okay, Sammy.”  He quickly pressed a chaste kiss to his brother’s lips before turning around to face the woman.

 

“You sure?” he asked.  She nodded and gripped his hand.  Dean smiled at her gently and used his left hand to remove her delicate fingers from his hand and place them around his right elbow.  He gripped her and looked into her eyes, “Sorry.  This is gonna burn like hell.”

 

Despite the brave look on Emily’s face, he wasn’t really surprised when the petite brunette fell to her knees as he watched the mark light up fiery red and burn its way from his freckled forearm up her pale delicate skin.  As the figure finally seared itself into position on her arm she cried out, and Sam saw a single glistening droplet track its way through the stubble on his brother’s cheek.

 

Emily released her grip on Dean’s arm and with a deep breath, brought herself to her feet again.  “I’m okay,” she said, though her voice was thin and her face pale.  She looked to the machete in Castiel’s hand.  Squaring her shoulders and evening out the expression on her face, her voice was strong again as she said, “Finish it.”  Emily sat at the table and laid her branded arm over the surface.  

 

Cas raised the blade, but Sam stepped in, stopping him with a hand around his wrist.  Sam pulled the machete from Castiel’s hand and walked back to Dean, holding it out to his brother as he spoke.  “I, uh…ther-there’s one last piece to the cure.”  Sam took a deep breath.  “The giver of the mark must be the one t-to, to, uh…remove it.”  He swallowed the lump in his throat as he waited for Dean to take the machete from his shaking hand. 

 

Green eyes narrowed at him and Sam had been prepared for this.  He hadn’t told Dean the last step because if he’d known going into this that he would have to be the one to cut off Emily’s arm, he never would have agreed.  But Sam also knew that once the mark was on the young woman in front of them, Dean would never leave it on her to scar her soul and torment her the way it had him.

 

“Dammit, Sam.”  Dean growled, then huffing out a breath he turned to Cas.  “You can heal her, right?”

 

“I can stop the bleeding.  Heal the amputation, but I cannot put her arm back in place.”

 

Dean cursed again.  “Fine.  As long as she survives.  Living with a stump is better than what that damn thing will do to her.”  He raised the machete high over his head, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  Don’t watch this.”  He used all his strength to bring it down in one powerful, sharp swing, separating her arm from her body.  She screamed in horror, unable to control her reaction to watching her own arm hit the floor, and then passed out into Castiel’s waiting arms.

 

A flash of blue filled the room as Castiel put his hand over the bleeding end of her arm to heal it.  As Cas laid her down on the sofa across the room, a second burst lit the room with the red-yellow flicker of flame.  He turned to find Dean on his knees in front of the burning amputated limb, and Sam crouching over his brother.

 

As soon as the mark had burst into flames, Dean felt as though his own blood curdled into lava, singeing and searing every inch of him from the inside out.  He clutched his hands around his belly as he fell to floor calling for his brother.  

 

Sam was already at Dean’s side before his knees hit the wood.  “Dean?”  His voice betrayed his panic, cracking like it hadn’t since puberty.  “Something’s wrong, Sammy.”  Dean’s voice was strained and Sam saw a large wet spot spreading under his brother.  Just as Dean cried out in agony, he realized there was also blood tinging the fluid as it seeped across the floor.  “Cas!  Help!”

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

Through the grey haze, a steady beep made its way to Dean’s brain.  He tried to pry open his eyes, but they would only twitch behind their lids.  Something gnawed at him; he should be doing something, someone had needed saving.  Several more tries parted his eyelids and Dean winced at the sliver of bright light that made its way into his pupils.  The jarring motion drew his attention to the weight of a hand on his and he carefully blinked his eyes open to look down.  It was Sam’s hand, he recognized it instantly, and underneath it was the generic blue of a hospital blanket and next to their clasped hands, Sam’s head rested as he slept by Dean’s side.

 

As Dean came fully to consciousness, everything came back to him.  The mark, the pregnancy, the cure and then the blistering pain and the blood.  His eyes widened in panic as his hands reached down to find the swell of his belly missing.  Oh, God, the baby.  He’d lost the baby.

 

Sam’s hands clasped over his on his stomach and he looked up to see his brother’s soft eyes watching him.  “It’s okay, Dean.”  Sam was smiling and Dean couldn’t return that expression.  Sam leaned forward, kissing him gently.  “Thank God you’re awake,” Sam said as he sat back in his chair, keeping hold of Dean’s hands.

 

Dean swallowed, afraid to ask, but needing the answer all the same.  “The baby?  What happened?  Where’s the baby?”

 

Sam’s smile faltered and Dean’s world quaked at the seams in the split second it took Sam to produce words.

 

“Dean, the cure…it nearly...” Sam paused as his voice hitched.  He took a breath and pushed on, knowing his brother needed the answers.  “It almost killed you both.  I never realized the cure would blow back onto the giver of the mark.”  Sam squeezed Dean’s hand as tears slid from his eyes.  “I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t know.  I should have – “

 

“Sam, what happened?”

 

“It-it did something to you.  Your body – it couldn’t handle the physical stress, and you went into labor.”

 

Dean’s eyes widened.  “Labor?  But I’m not due for another eight weeks!  Did it…?  Sammy, where’s my baby?” 

 

“Cas zapped us here, to the emergency room.  You were unconscious, and the contractions wouldn’t stop.  The baby was in distress, so they had to do an emergency C-section.”  Sam squeezed Dean’s hand in his.  “They weren’t sure if you were gonna make it.  I’ve been so – God, Dean.  I’m so glad you’re awake.”

 

Dean understood Sam’s rush of relief at seeing Dean awake and okay, he pulled Sam back into him for another kiss.  “I’m here, Sammy.  I’m okay.  But you gotta answer me, little brother.  The baby?”

 

Sam sniffed, his weak smile returning.  “She’s in the NICU.”

 

Alive, the baby was alive.  Dean began to allow some of the tension to leave his shoulders.  “It’s a girl?”  Sam nodded, his smile growing until his dimples appeared.  “And she’s not…she’s human?”

 

“Yeah.  She-she’s beautiful.”

 

“I need to see her.  Take me to her?”

 

“Of course.  I’ll get the nurse to bring us a wheelchair.”

 

As Sam wheeled him through the halls toward the NICU Dean couldn’t help asking more questions.  “Is she okay?  I mean really okay.”

 

Sam nodded above him.  “Yeah, she’s okay.  I mean, she really is tiny Dean.  Only about 4 pounds.  But they say she’s old enough that there won’t be any really bad long-term effects.  Maybe some trouble with her vision, or possibly asthma.  And it’s going to be awhile before she’s strong enough to go home with us.”

 

“But she’s gonna be okay?”

 

Sam stopped the wheelchair to come around and stand in front of Dean.  He cupped his brother’s face as he repeated his answer, “She’s going to be just fine.”  Sam leaned forward and kissed him.  “Now let’s go see her.”

 

Dean smiled as Sam punched in the code to the locked NICU door and then wheeled his chair over to an incubator in the back corner of the room.  

 

Dean had never fallen in love with another human being as fast or as completely as he did at the first sight of his daughter.  Sam had been right, she was tiny.  But she was a Winchester and Dean knew better than anyone how much fight Winchesters carried.  “Can I – can I hold her?”  Sam smiled as he motioned a nurse over.  “Yeah, she’s okay to come out of there for a few minutes at a time.”  

 

It took several minutes to get Dean set up, unhook the baby from everything that could be taken off, and wrangle the cords and tubes that had to come with her.  Sam helped Dean take down his hospital gown, explaining how good skin-to-skin contact was, and the nurse helped nestle the tiny girl against her father’s chest, little cheek resting right over Dean’s tattoo.  

 

Sam was left breathless by the look on Dean’s face as he held his daughter for the first time.  The awe, and fear, the relief, pride, admiration and the love on his brother’s face was stunning and pure.  

 

The nurse smiled at them and explained she’d be just a few steps away if they needed her before leaving them alone.  Sam had one last thing to tell Dean and watching him with the baby, he knew this was the right moment to do it.

 

“There’s one more thing you should know.”  Dean looked up from the little face to meet Sam’s eyes.  “I, I um, stole one of her blood samples.  Got her DNA tested at another lab.  Against mine.”

 

Dean lifted his eyebrows as he waited for the answer.

 

Sam drew in a deep breath and smiled.  “She’s my daughter too.  She’s _ours_ , Dean.”

 

Dean beamed back as he pulled Sam down for a kiss.

  
*       *       *       *       *   


  


  
[ ** Epilogue ** ](http://deansdirtybb.livejournal.com/25129.html)

 


	4. Consequences (Epilogue)

  
** Consequences  ** ** Epilogue **   


  
  
“Slow down,” Dean ordered from the passenger seat, half turned to face the car-seat in the back.    


 

“I’m only going 40,” Sam said with a chuckle, but when he got a dour face from Dean, he gently pressed on the brake.

 

“Do you think she’s ready?  It’s barely been a month.”

 

Sam smiled; they’d had this discussion at least four times already.  “Yes, Dean.  She’s eating, breathing on her own and maintaining her temperature without the warmers.  All the mile markers.  She’s ready to come home with us.”  Sam put his hand on Dean’s knee.  “And we’re ready for her too.”

 

“Yeah?”  Dean drew in a shaky deep breath and when he turned to his brother, Sam didn’t miss the wet shine in Dean’s green eyes. 

 

“Yeah.”  Sam squeezed the muscle of Dean’s thigh and Dean took a final look back at the tiny girl before turning back around in his seat and taking Sam’s hand in his.

 

Dean watched out the window and Sam could tell from the crease of his brow Dean had once again been sucked into his own head.  Sam returned his attention to the road in front of him and his own thoughts turned to everything that had happened since that terrifying day they’d finally removed the mark from Dean’s arm for good.

 

It had been far from an easy road.  Though Dean’s soul was no longer in danger from the evil pull of the mark, his mind had not escaped the damage.  Months spent as a demon with no care for the consequences of his actions, and then the horror of what he’d had to do to another human being to get rid of Cain’s curse, had taken a heavy toll on Dean’s emotional and mental state.  He refused to talk about it, but Sam had caught him staring off into nothing in a trance and had more often than not been woken from Dean thrashing about in the bed in the throes of an awful nightmare.  Dean would sometimes allow Sam to provide him the physical comfort of holding him, but never said a word about the atrocities projecting from his subconscious to cause such terror.  

 

The only time Sam saw Dean close to peaceful was during their visits to the hospital with their daughter.  There had been a short discussion about what to name her, the first suggestion being Mary, after their mother, but they also wanted to honor Emily for her sacrifice.  In the end they chose Mary, and the first time they held her and called her by name, they both agreed it was a perfect fit.  They were both keeping a close watch on her health, but so far she seemed to have escaped any complications from her two fathers being related.  Sam had done research and it appeared most of the danger came from a higher probability of doubled-up recessive genes causing rarer diseases to be more likely.  Though Sam and Dean didn’t know a lot about their family medical history, some searching into Henry’s file in the archives of the Men of Letters quelled their worries when it revealed no major health issues at all.  They had found scant information about the medical history of Mary’s family, but so far there were no red flags.  Still, Dean had asked for the full battery of tests to be run on her, and though the doctors initially resisted, Dean’s insistence and Sam’s puppy eyes ensured Mary was tested for everything from Addison’s to Zunich-Kaye’s syndrome.  Mary came up negative for all of it.

 

There had been some concern about her breathing and the nurses felt it likely that she would develop asthma and a respiratory therapist was added to the list of regular follow-ups the boys would have to bring their daughter back to the hospital for.  Since she was still so young, there was little way to know about her vision, but Sam and Dean were taught the things to watch out for.  

 

So much of the last month had been a blur of medical tests and hospital visits, but there had also been more than their fair share of waiting and nights of having to leave Mary at the hospital at the end of the day.  Sam was incredibly excited to bring his daughter home, and despite the new dad anxiety, he knew Dean couldn’t wait to finally have Mary in their home with them. 

 

“Thanks, Sammy.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Everything.  You never gave up on me,” he looked back to the baby, “on her.  On family.”

 

Sam smiled wide, dimples popping deep into his cheeks.  “I never will, Dean.”

 

In his youth Sam had coveted a happy ending for himself with a college diploma and a wife behind a white picket fence, but that was never what he was destined to have.  This was his happy ending, his and Dean’s.  A career of helping and saving people, a home in the bunker, love with his soul mate in his brother, and now a daughter to complete their family.  Certainly nothing you’d find portrayed on any sitcom or on the shiny cover of a magazine, but for Sam and Dean, it was just about perfect.   


 


End file.
